


Beyond The Borderline

by ByTheDawn



Series: Swan Queen Week [3]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, F/F, First Meetings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-07
Updated: 2014-01-07
Packaged: 2018-01-07 21:00:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1124323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ByTheDawn/pseuds/ByTheDawn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the <a href="http://swanqueenweek.tumblr.com/">Swan Queen Week Midwinter 2014</a>. Day three: Hostage AU.</p><p>AU start to the series, where everyone is a hostage to their own fears and Mister Gold’s power—especially Emma Swan who takes on a simple case in her capacity as a bail bonds agent and ends up getting involved in a situation she is far from ready for. No book, no Henry being angry at Regina.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Crossing Lines

**Author's Note:**

> (Prompt somewhat loosely interpreted)

With a spiteful groan, Emma Swan clamped her hands over her ears to muffle out the sound of her ringtone. Why the fuck had she considered it a good idea to blast ‘Bad Boys’ from the crappy speaker every time someone called? She twisted in her bed, trying to get away from whomever had decided to call her in the middle of the God damn night, but she eventually realized that this could be work, and she was dreadfully short on work at the moment.

Emma carefully opened one eye and shut it again as soon as she was met with pouring sunlight. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t the middle of the night after all. It was at this point that she remembered only getting into bed around 5 AM. She needed to get another job; being a bounty hunter was simply not worth all the crap that came along with it.

She managed to find her phone before the caller hung up and quickly accepted the call.

“Swan.” She croaked, and winched at the sound of her own voice—as rough as if it had been raked over a cheese grater a good few times. Well, it served her right for shouting every foul name under the sun at her latest skip after he’d sucker punched her in the stomach.

“Good morning Miss Swan, I hope I am not disturbing you…?” The male voice sounded friendly enough, Emma mused, and she cleared her throat.

“No, it’s fine. What can I do for you mister…?” Emma was really trying for accommodating in her voice, but she wasn’t sure if she actually succeeded.

“Jones, Emanuel Jones, from Jefferson and Jones. We’re a law firm in the Boston area, and we heard you are a bounty hunter who gets results.”

Emma groaned.

“We prefer the term ‘bail enforcement agent’.” Emma answered as she sat up in her bed, squinting against the intruding daylight and the pounding headache that last week’s regime had left her with.

“My apologies.” 

“It’s okay. You have a job for me?” Emma asked as she got up and hunted down pen and paper. Emanuel sounded legit, and with the last of her cases ending last night, she could do with a bit of promised income.

“I do. Would you mind coming over to our office? Should you agree to take the case, we can sign the needed documentation right away.” Jones proposed and she nodded subconsciously.

“Sure, where are you guys located?”

 

An hour later, Emma stood in front of a small but obviously expensive-to-rent brownstone building with fancy drapes and faux gold lettering above the door. She read the names of the lawyers and walked up the steps, hands in the pockets of her tight jeans. This must be the place.

It was, indeed, the place, and Emanuel Jones was an attractive man in his late fifties with an infectious smile and expensive suit. Emma could appreciate a man in a good suit. She sat opposite the lawyer at his desk as she was handed the folder which contained her potential next case. She opened it with determination and was surprised to find a picture of a gorgeous brunette with a severe haircut and—Emma happily admitted—a very nice pantsuit. She could appreciate a woman in a good suit as well. Saving her study of the woman for a later time, Emma turned over the picture to the documents below.

“Regina Mills. Okay, what did she do?” She asked as she went over the court documents to find the answer herself.

“Tax evasion.” Emanuel said. “It seems she never showed up for her scheduled court appearance.”

“Sounds straight-forward enough. Any leads?” Emma questioned as she continued to scan the documents, familiarizing herself at least superficially with the case.

“Oh, we know exactly where she is: 108 Mifflin Street, Storybrooke, Maine.” Emma raised an eyebrow as she looked up to the male in front of her.

“Then why the need for an agent? Why not send the cops or have the bondsperson go themselves?” She requested.

“Your services were requested, Miss Swan; by name.” Jones answered her, leaning back in his chair with an amused—if not slightly confused—look on his features. Emma’s eyebrow raised at the new information.

“Well, that’s… special…” She drawled. Jones shot her a look that had Emma grinning. “Who’s the person that wants to donate some money to me through a game of fetch?”

“They have requested to remain anonymous.” Emanuel Jones smoothly interjected. Well, _whatever_ , Emma decided. Money was money, and it was better if it was easy.

“Okay, fine, I’m intrigued. What’s the fee?” She asked. Jones leaned forward.

“Thirty thousand dollars.” He promised her, and Emma whistled. Looking back down at the picture in the folder, she grinned.

“You must have been a very naughty girl, Miss Mills.” She said appreciatively, and let her eyes fall on Emanuel Jones again. “Or maybe I have been a very good girl.” She added with a smirk, and extended her hand as she leaned forward in her chair.

“Alright, you’ve got yourself a deal.” She swore, and the two shook on it before signing the required legal documents which would give Emma the right to arrest Regina Mills and transport her back to Boston. With the bail piece in her pocket and the folder in her hand, Emma exited the building half an hour after entering it.

 

Three hours later, Emma was on her way. She travelled light—it wasn’t that far a trip, after all, and she didn’t have much stuff to begin with. Her favourite leather jacket—the red one—lay on the chair next to her, and while she did not expect much trouble from this one, she had her 9mm handgun placed squarely on top of it, along with the leftovers of her McDonalds happy meal. Eyeing the box, she realized she should get rid of that—minus the toy, of course—before she wrestled Miss Mills into the car.

Emma enjoyed night time drives; she was never really a morning—or daytime, really—person to begin with, but this way she also got to evade traffic and push the beat up yellow Bug she drove cross country to its limits. She loved the old thing, despite the memories that clung to it.

Turning her mind to the first hitch in her case, Emma wrestled the map on her lap onto the steering wheel, alternating her vision from it to the world outside every few seconds. It seemed the ‘metropolis’ of Storybrooke was just tiny enough not to be located on any map and even the pampered IT geeks at Google were unable to find the town with their satellites. This had given Emma pause, but a call to Emanuel had put her mind at ease at least a little: it seemed Regina Mills’ social security documents also listed the town, and a legal adoption from ten years prior was also signed off on with the address in place. To top it off, whomever had volunteered as a bail bondsman for the woman had left somewhat vague but followable instructions on how to get to the town. Before leaving, she had sketched them out on the map and now attempted to follow them as well as she could.

 

The last bit of the drive proved to be the toughest. As soon as she had turned into the disused road that should bring her straight into the town, a feeling of doubt overtook her. Maybe this wasn’t the right road after all? Was there really a town smack in the middle of nowhere? Why hadn’t there been a sign? No, this must be wrong; she should have been there already. The feeling intensified until it almost became unbearable. Because it lessened if she slowed down, Emma found herself crawling ahead within minutes after turning onto the road. Stubbornly, she tried to shake the feeling because she could use 30k in her bank account. 

It wasn’t just about the money for Emma, though. She had a reputation to uphold, a reputation that said: if I take your case, I clear your case. It was her reputation which afforded her her livelihood, so even if she really—really—wanted to turn back, she couldn’t and she wouldn’t.

It wasn’t easy, but she fought the tension that settled at the front of her skull and pushed on, flooring the gas pedal and winching at the backlash. Somehow, she felt like she was fighting something, that she wasn’t supposed to be here—maybe just not yet, maybe not at all—but the feeling only intensified her determination to continue. 

Crossing the town line was effortless, and came with a wave of soothing relief. The pressure that had been building inside her skull vanished into thin air, as if it had been caught by a net attached to the welcome sign. She was a little shocked by how not freaked out she was by whatever had just transpired. Her frayed mind simply accepted her current circumstances like a date with destiny. She couldn’t fight being here, and so she would have to go on—no matter what it cost her.

Slipping back in the driver’s seat, Emma took stock of her options. She could head into town, set up surveillance, and check out Regina Mills first, or she could do the stupid thing that got her home quickly and in time for a well-deserved day of rest, namely ring the doorbell and hope she answered. The latter sounded far more appealing.

Thus decided, it only took Emma twenty more minutes to clear the woods, head into town, find the one person still awake at this hour—a middle-aged man with curly hair and a dog—ask for directions and show up unannounced to the Mills residence.

During her drive, Emma had concluded that bail must have been set around 300k for the tax evading Mayor of Storybrooke. Now she got a good look at the manor Regina Mills at least at one point in her life had called home, she couldn’t help but wonder why she had even needed someone else to fork up the money for her; Her home was worth more than that. Well, it was not her place to ask these types of questions; it was just her job to get Regina Mills into custody. With a sigh, she slid the gun into her holster, clipped her badge to her belt and slipped on her jacket. _Lets do this,_ she told herself with a sigh.

There were still a few lights burning, despite the late hour, so Emma decided to just knock. Surprise was the greatest advantage she had in her job, and unlike many of her colleagues, she did not look the part. People tended to open their doors for her, and Regina Mills was no exception. 

Her picture had not done her justice. At all. Because of her stern grey business dress, Emma was able to see every curve, and despite the time, not a hair was out of place on the woman’s head. She was perfectly styled and her expressive eyes were deep enough to drown in. She looked exactly like the type of women Emma would gladly risk rejection for if she got a chance at them in a bar. Quenching her instinctual reaction, she took a deep breath.

“Yes?” Regina Mills’ voice was low and sultry, and Emma was sure she wasn’t even trying. Emma cleared her throat and stepped forward.

“Are you Regina Mills?” She asked, already knowing the answer.

“I am, why do you ask?” Came the surprised but suspicious reply. Emma fought the urge to apologize for what she was about to do.

“Regina Mill, you are being detained for breaking the terms of your bail. Please turn around and face the wall so I can cuff you.” Emma stated forcefully, making it clear that this was no joke, and she would not put up with any crap. Usually this was the point where she was either hit, someone ran, or they broke down in tears. Miss Mills did not do any of them, instead, she threw her head back and laughed. It was a deep, full, laugh that held promises of murder. Emma felt a shiver of fear go through her spine, but more than that, she found the sound dangerously arousing. 

“Yeah, that’s enough of that.” She decided and invaded the house. In a practiced move, she had her query face first against the wall in seconds, one arm twisted painfully behind her back, while Emma reached for the other with her one free hand. She had her body pressed firmly into the brunette’s back, one leg between both of hers to prevent her from kicking up and hitting her chins—or private areas that would hurt far more on a man, but she was not looking forward to either. The woman’s soft backside was pushed against her pelvis and the whimper of pain or surprise that the brunette uttered upon impact did strange things to Emma’s insides. The laugh had died on the dark haired woman’s lips, which now held a twisted sneer.

“You will get off me this instant.” Regina Mills ordered her darkly, but instead Emma slipped one loop of the handcuffs around Regina’s right wrist, and the other along her left. Clasping them both shut, she took a firm hold of the chain between them as she pushed her body into the woman’s a little harder, trying not to saver the heat that radiated off of the woman as she pressed into her, nor the way the sweet scent of apples made Emma a little dizzy. 

“Sorry, not going to happen.” She said and begun to hoist Miss Mills off of the property.


	2. Decisions

“Wait, wait!”

Regina did not sound angry now, nor cocky. There was genuine fear in her tone, and it was enough to give Emma pause.

“My son, he’s inside, in bed. Let me call someone. This is a misunderstanding, and we can sort it out, but I can’t leave my son alone in our home.” Regina said, and there was a pleading quality to her voice that Emma suspected did not come to her naturally. Of course, it was a request she could not ignore.

“Right, your kid. Okay, fine.” Emma gruffly hoisted Regina around, more holding up the woman under the force of her motions than actually forcing her to make the steps. Perhaps she should get the brunette to change out of these ridiculous heels as well before they hit the road. 

She kicked the door shut behind them as gently as she could, and looked around for a home phone. Not locating it, she sighed.

“Where’s your phone?” She asked and the brunette nodded in the direction of the kitchen.

“It’s in my bag.” She said. Emma now had two alternatives: force the woman to come with her or quickly rush to grab the bag she could see from the hallway and bring it back.

“Don’t. Run.” She growled and let go of the handcuffs and shoulder she had been manipulating. The woman did not move, just turned her head to look at her with a gaze so full of rage that Emma involuntarily licked her lips—not out of fear but out of something that settled hot in the pit of her stomach. Emma took a tentative step away from her captive, whose eyes followed her like a predator’s looking for a weak moment in its prey to lurch at her and rip out her throat. Still, she did not move as Emma reached for the bag, and also did not move when she rummaged around to find the phone. Miss Mills stood ramrod straight as Emma watched her and eventually moved back, phone in hand.

“What’s your code?” She asked, and Miss Mills narrowed her eyes dangerously. Two could play that game. 

“Unless you can type behind your back, you are giving me your code, or I will march you out of here, son or no son,” Emma warned, and the brunette’s shoulders sagged just a little.

“1022.” The angry woman admitted and Emma typed in the code, like she had done plenty of times for non-important four digit codes; the 22th of October was, after all, her birthday, and she wondered if the numbers indeed represented a date.

“Birthday?” She asked.

“Anniversary.” The brunette admitted, and seemed shocked by her own voice. Emma smirked.

“Well, it is mine.” She answered, feeling the need to make the woman feel a little more at ease; they had a good few hours ahead of them, after all. The news did not seem to bring Regina a lot of comfort, though, instead, her eyes widened for a moment, although she struggled to hide her surprise.

“What year?” She asked, and Emma debated with herself whether or not to answer. Why did Miss Mills want to know how old she was?

“1983. Now, who am I calling?” This time, Regina Mills covered her surprise better, but Emma still picked up on it. Why did her birthday matter to this criminal anyway? Oh God, could you commit identity theft with just a birthday, because if that was the case, she was royally fucked. Well, nothing to be done about it now. Instead, she scrolled through Regina Mills’ extensive contact list while she waited for the brunette to answer.

“Nolan, Kathryn.”

 

It took Miss Mills’ friend half an hour to arrive, half an hour in which Emma had spent most of the time awkwardly in a young boy’s bedroom; a young boy who was shooting daggers at her from the awkward comfort of Regina Mills’ lap. He was cute, with big brown eyes and Spiderman pyjamas. He was also in tears over losing his mother, although Regina—Miss Mills, Emma reminded herself, but it was hard to see her as just another, impersonal, split when the woman was fighting tears and pleading with her to take at least one of the cuffs off so she could hug her son—kept reminding him that this was all a big mistake and she would be home tomorrow. Emma wasn’t so sure of that, but kept quiet. It was hard enough to be responsible for breaking up a family when she had such an awful track record with family of her own. Again, she had to remind herself that she was not responsible, that Regina Mills had committed tax fraud herself, and that she was thus responsible for this coming separation.

When Kathryn Nolan finally showed up, she cried the tears Regina Mills refused to spill. She also gave Henry the hug he so desperately needed, and Emma had to look away. Steeling her heart, she announced they would be leaving now and gave Mrs. Nolan her number so she could keep in touch. She then escorted Regina out of the house and moved her into the backseat of her Bug, quickly pushing the Happy Meal box off of the front seat afterwards, kicking herself for forgetting to throw it out. The brunette let herself be escorted willingly, but Emma figured that was mostly because her crying son was watching, plastered against Regina’s—Miss Mills’—blonde friend’s body. Emma sighed and slid into the driver’s seat. Again, she fought the urge to say ‘sorry’.

 

The first leg of the journey was quiet, and Emma was grateful for it. Every time she looked in the rear view mirror, murderous eyes fell on hers, but she could deal with that. Regina—Emma finally gave up trying to stick with ‘Miss Mills’—was not trying to wreck her Bug, she hadn’t assaulted her, and she hadn’t tried to escape. The latter part would be hard without the first two, because all doors in the car besides her own were child proof—something she had made damn sure Regina was aware of—but still. Emma could see the gears turning in Regina’s head, and she seemed to have channelled all her pain and anguish over her son into blinding hate for the woman who had pretty much kidnapped her from her home. Emma couldn’t say she was surprised. It was a little creepy to have a woman so hell-bent on her destruction tied up on the backseat, however, so Emma figured she should try to break the silence.

“When we get to Boston, I will take you to the Suffolk County Jail where the lawyer who hired me will meet us. His name is Emanuel Jones, and he represents your bail bondsman. They will probably meet you there as well, or if you made your arrangements with a company, they will send a representative. At that point, I sign over custody to your bail bondsman and you will be taken into custody.” Emma explained, hoping to put Regina’s mind at ease a little.

“I have made no such arrangements.” Regina answered venomously, and Emma glanced at her in the rear view mirror.

“Well, someone thinks you skipped your hearing and thus your bail is void. Those are the rules, and I didn’t make them.” Emma answered, having heard the same excuses hundreds of times; they didn’t do it, they hadn’t known the date, they could pay her if she let them go. Emma never did, and she’d never believed any of them—mostly thanks to her well-functioning bullshit detector—and after she had dropped them off, she had forgotten about them as best she could. Already Emma could tell she was going to have a harder time forgetting about Regina Mills.

“I never had a hearing, and bail was never set. I do not even know of which crime I am accused.” Regina answered, her voice flat but the fire in her eyes still burning at the strength of an inferno. Emma felt her stomach drop when her bullshit detector remained suspiciously silent. She swallowed.

“Tax evasion.” She answered and watched Regina’s eyebrows shoot up involuntarily.

“What?” She asked sharply. Again, a laugh welled up in Regina’s chest and she shook her head. “Well, well, whatever has gone wrong here, it is certainly a fine mess.”

Emma felt her mouth go dry. There was nothing friendly in either that laugh or those words. Those words meant heads would roll, many of them, in fact.

“Whatever.” She tried airily but she could see Regina picked up on the slight tremor in her voice. Those dark orbs settled on her again through the rear view mirror, and Emma distractedly glanced into them.

“What’s wrong, dear?” Regina asked, her voice still carrying that same murderous lilt, but now also displaying something else, something much more dangerous—seduction.

“Are you starting to wish you had secured me a little tighter…?” To prove her point, Regina shifted in the backseat, leaning forward. She was able to keep admirable balance despite being without the use of her hands—hands thankfully tied behind her back by strong handcuffs. Emma took a steadying breath as she felt Regina’s breath ghost over her hair and side of her face. She stopped herself from reacting—at least outwardly—but inwardly, Emma was split between screeching in fear and moaning with desire. It was a dangerous combination, because both were distracting her from the road ahead.

“Sit. Back. Down.” She punctuated. “Or so help me, I will—”

“You will do what?” Regina asked, and her voice was more hateful then seductive this time. She wondered if it was physically possible for Regina to bite through her corroded artery from this angle and swallowed heavily, shifting in her chair a little.

“Or I will lock you in the boot of the car.” Emma finished her sentence.

“You wouldn’t.” The woman answered confidently, but Emma thought she detected just a hint of surprise and worry there.

“Oh, I would. Try me. You have no idea what I am capable of.” Emma answered, feeling more brave now. “On the count of three, Miss Mills. One, two…Thr—”

Regina slowly slid back into the backseat, a confidant smirk on her face.

“You know, I don’t know what you are smiling about; I have an arrest warrant with your name on it, a file with your picture in it, along with official documents that say you are the one I am looking for, and from what I can tell, you are about to go to jail for a long, long, time. What is tax evasion these days? Five years? That’s five years without your little boy.” Emma said cruelly, trying to get back the upper hand in this fucked up game they were playing here. It had the desired effect; pain and a touch of fear flashed through dark eyes which then narrowed dangerously.

“You don’t get to talk about my son.” Regina warned dangerously low in her throat, and Emma shrugged.

“Maybe not, but I’m not the one who wanted to save a couple of bucks and tried to screw the system.” Emma answered smoothly, and once more, Regina sat up.

“I didn’t do anything wrong!” She called out, for the first time truly losing control over herself. Instead of feeling triumphant, Emma felt her throat constrict—but less so when her trusty lie detector flared like a Christmas tree on crack.

“Well, that was a lie.” She snorted. Regina fell back into the seat and purposefully turned away for the first time.

“I did not evade my taxes.” She amended, and Emma sighed when she couldn’t detect a trace of a falsehood in the sentence. She had not wanted to hear that.

“So what _did_ you do wrong?” Emma tried and the dark eyes that settled on her again regarded her intently. Emma tried to meet her eyes head on, hoping for a stretch of road that was completely straight. When Regina remained silent, she prodded her a little. “Does it have to do with that date?”

Regina smiled ruefully, sighing. She let her eyes divert and Emma quickly returned hers to the road ahead, grateful to see that she wasn’t about to hit a tree. She was sure Regina wasn’t going to answer her when she caught softly spoken words drifting over from the back seat.

“It has everything to do with that date, my dear.”

 

The next half hour or so passed with silence and Emma slowly watched colour return to the sky. She hadn’t dared turn on the radio in fear she missed a movement made by the other woman which would be the end of her, and time was crawling by. Emma was starting to relax a little as Regina was simply leaning back and no longer looking at her so much. She only realized she was getting comfortable when she jumped at Regina’s voice.

“How did you manage to cross the city limit?”

It seemed to be a friendly enough question, asked in a neutral tone that did not set off warning bells. Emma regarded her, and suppressed a shiver at the dark eyes that had once more returned to her own. What was she going to say to that? That it had brought back years of teenage angst? That it had taken all of her willpower to even drive on? Why would Regina even ask her about that?

“Cat got your tongue, dear?” Regina prodded, and Emma narrowed her eyes.

“You can stop calling me ‘dear’ any time now.” She warned. Regina smirked.

“Then what shall I call you? You have not given me your name.” Regina pressed and Emma groaned. True. It just… hadn’t happened.

“It’s Emma, Emma Swan.” She conceded and Regina stared at her. She was taken aback by the pain in dark eyes.

“Miss Swan, then. Or would you prefer ‘Emma’?” Regina recovered, and Emma sighed.

“Miss Swan will do.”

“You haven’t answered my question, Miss Swan.” Regina tried again a few minutes later. Emma considered feigning ignorance a moment, but eventually decided against it. She wasn’t stupid, and she wasn’t going to pretend she was either.

“I drove.” She answered simply, hoping that ended that part of the conversation.

“How was the drive?” Regina pressed, eyes intently on her. Emma purposefully looked away.

“Pleasant for the most part.” She gritted out.

“How about the not so pleasant part?”

“Jesus, what’s with the questions!” Emma eventually snapped, turning around in her chair to actually look at Regina a moment before pulling herself back so as not to be the death of the both of them. She missed Regina swallowing heavily.

 

“You are an orphan, are you not?” 

Emma hit the brakes so hard, Regina launched forward, smacking into the passenger seat before crumpling back. 

“What did you just say?” Emma asked as they got to a stop, turning once more in her seat as her blood ran cold in het veins before heating to a boil.

“I _asked_ if you were separated from your parents when you were still a baby.” Regina asked and Emma gaped at her, trying to divine meaning from this convoluted mess that passed as a conversation. She wasn’t sure if she should answer, if she even wanted to remember. In the end, soft brown eyes, filled with apprehension, decided for her.

“Yeah.” She answered casually. “I was.”

Regina’s shoulders sagged. 

“And you were found here somewhere, were you not? Perhaps in the woods?” Regina’s voice was soft now. It was such a far cry from the woman she had met just a few hours ago, Emma’s mind couldn’t compute. On top of that, she seemed to know details about her life that very few people even knew—details she wasn’t sure about herself.

“How... How do you know all of this…?” She heard herself asking, and was relieved she had not needed to consciously get herself to ask the question. Regina regarded her, seizing her up. Emma wondered if she even wanted to hear the answer now. 

“I will tell you if you take me back.” Regina said and Emma’s first instinct was to shoot down the suggestion. 

“You have been set up, Miss Swan—Emma—and I think I know who is at the root of it.” Regina’s voice was tired now; defeated, even. 

“Set up by who?” Emma asked, despite herself. She didn’t trust Regina as far as she could throw her—that murderous look still clear in her mind—but her lie detector had not gone off at all, and Regina was obviously aware of a few crucial detail about both this case and Emma’s life. If there was one thing Emma hated, it was being in the dark. Besides, being requested for a job by name was not something that happened often, and with all that had happened, Regina’s entire ‘conviction’ sounded a tad bit too convenient.

“He goes by ‘Mister Gold’.” Regina answered her with a sigh. “He owns much of Storybrooke and, in a way, he helped me get to power. I fear, though, that he has decided I have become a nuisance to him, and that his… agenda… is not met quickly enough so he has decided to push the schedule while getting me out of the way.”

“So, where do I come in?” Emma asked, knowing Regina was keeping most of the story from her, but dealing with even this little bit of information was making her head spin, especially because not a word of it appeared to be a lie.

“You, my dear, come in from the very beginning of a very long story you will hear eventually, but not right now. Please, do not argue, it is for your own wellbeing.” Regina answered her soothingly and Emma huffed.

“Fine. So now what?” Emma was surprised at her willingness to accept the dark haired woman’s words for truth, but in all honesty, Regina hadn’t really given her a reason not to go along with whatever it was she had been planning. Emma’s exhaustion after hours and hours on the road probably did not help matters any either.

“Now we pay Mister Gold a visit.” Regina said, and the dark smirk that graced Regina’s lips at that returned the feeling of instant attraction to Emma’s gut. God, since when did Emma have a penchant for punishment?


	3. Chapter 3

“With this new… turn in our relationship, wouldn’t you agree that these cuffs can, perhaps, come off, Miss Swan?” Regina’s voice was filled with equal parts sass and sweetness, and Emma was not falling for it. 

“Lady, as far as I’m concerned, you are still a criminal and just a few hours ago, I thought you were going to strangle me. You are not going anywhere.” Emma answered immediately, her apprehension getting the better of her. They had—painlessly—crossed the city limit heading out of town about an hour ago, and she was dreading another encounter with the headache-inducing tripwire now she wanted back in.

“I guess I cannot argue your logic,” Regina said, and leaned back, shifting so her shoulders got a little more rest. “…but perhaps I can put your mind at ease, and gain a bit of your trust?”

Emma arched an eye-brow, glancing back in the rear view mirror. Regina seemed pretty sincere. Okay, fine, she’d bite. She was nothing if not curious.

“About what?”

“Driving back into town. You look worried, and I assume it has something to do with the harrowing experience of your arrival and its imminent repeat?” Regina answered smoothly. The woman’s ability to read her was starting to frighten Emma, and it just fit in perfectly with this whole fucked up situation. Emma felt woefully out of the loop—and that was something she despised.

“Care to fill me in on your Jedi mind tricks?” She requested gruffly, trying not to let her growing apprehension show.

“I am sure I do not know what a ‘Jedi’ is, Miss Swan, but you can breathe easier about approaching Storybrooke a second time. It should be a smooth drive; you have been ‘assimilated’, as it were.” The brunette answered and Emma huffed.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She bit at her captive, but Regina just smirked.

“All in good time, Emma. No why don’t you tell me what’s in my file?”

Emma sighed and loosed her stiff joints. She really needed to get out of this car. Reluctantly, but unable not to comply with Regina’s request, she started laying out the court case against her passenger and pain in her ass.

She couldn’t believe she was actually going along with this.

 

They parked the car in front of a raggedy shop with an ornate sign hanging off of the front: Mr. Gold Pawnbroker & Antiquities Dealer. Emma felt dead on her feet—well, ass. She pinched the bridge of her nose before rubbing her eyes and checking the time on her phone. 9.08 AM. For fuck sakes, she had been driving for pretty much thirteen hours straight. She really, really, really, needed to get into another profession. Turning around in her seat, she eyed Regina, who was looking at her with apprehension, although she was trying to hide it. For a quiet moment, Emma wondered how she was able to read Regina so very well when the woman’s face was practically a blank slate, but then their eyes met and Emma wasn’t wondering anymore. Sure, Regina was good at manipulating her face into whatever expression she desired, but she couldn’t change the emotion in her eyes.

“Ready?” She asked, and was surprised to find her voice softer than intended. The corners of Regina’s mouth pulled up a short moment before the hint of a smile was whipped away forcefully and eyes darkened.

“Let’s go. And Miss Swan… whatever you hear in there…” Regina trailed off, eyes falling away from her own.

“Yes?” Emma pressed, now curious to hear the words of her captive.

“Nothing. It’s nothing.” Regina covered and Emma sighed, resigning herself to the fact she was never going to get a straight answer from the brunette. Not ever, most likely. Instead, she got out of the car and circled to the back seat, opening the door for Regina, who swung shapely legs out of it and Emma couldn’t help sneak a peek at them before taking a forceful hold on Regina’s arm to help the woman up.

“Like what you see, Miss swan?” Regina sassed, and Emma felt the burn coming to her cheeks in a tingling wave that flooded her entire system. Busted; so very busted. Regina pressed herself closer into Emma’s personal space and once more, Emma caught a whiff of exquisite perfume and the unique scent of Regina’s tinted skin.

“Shut up.” She covered lamely, pushing Regina away from her a little just so she could get her breath back. Regina smirked but remained quiet—save for the lifting of a single eyebrow. Emma slammed the door and stepped around her to head into the pawnshop.

The bell that was fastened over the door rang deafeningly in the silence as Emma stepped inside, Regina on her heels. She got out of the way to let Regina enter and chanced a glimpse at the street. Thankfully not too many people had seen their Mayor enter Gold’s pawnshop while handcuffed. Regina was not giving the impression she would have minded either way, but Emma felt herself inexplicably protective of her charge and had no intention of letting her get her reputation smeared if this was indeed a setup. 

“Gold!” Regina’s voice was all business now, and Emma smirked. She wondered if that was the tone Regina used in meetings, or if this was perhaps even a notch beyond that. Mister Gold was not as she had pictured him in her head. He was a well-dressed man, somewhere between his forties and his sixties—Emma had a hard time pinpointing his age more than that—with sleek, long hair and a cane. He seemed pleasant enough until he spoke, and a smile came to his features—a smile that sent icy shivers of warning down her spine. Instinctively, she fell in step with Regina.

“Mayor Mills, what a pleasant surprise so early on a Tuesday. I see you have brought a friend? How delightful.” His voice was too… _something_ ; too smooth, perhaps, too friendly. Emma had met many creeps in her day, but there were none she had reacted so instinctively to as Gold.

“This is not a pleasure visit.” Regina sassed, apparently unafraid, but Emma did not miss the way Regina moved to the side—instinctually or pre-planned—to shelter her away from Gold’s interested stare. Not sure how to react to that, Emma just stood and waited.

“It seems I have found myself in a spot of trouble with the law…” Regina followed, and the man’s face hardened, his eyes slipping from her to Regina. 

“I am sorry to hear that, Madam Mayor. I am not sure how I can help you with that, however?” He questioned, and the words _’I am just a lowly pawnshop owner’_ hung clear in the air. Emma didn’t believe it for a second. As much as she—consciously—did not trust Regina, she trusted Gold far less. She was also getting the unpleasant feeling that in their movements, stares, and unspoken words, there was an entirely different conversation being held; something that had nothing to do with tax evasion and all the more with her humble self.

“Oh, I am sure that is not true, mister Gold,” Regina said, her voice still happy and relaxed, but Emma could hear the hissing of cats and the roaring of lions behind the words. Gold could too, she saw, as he smiled lightly.

“I am quite sure you know very well what has happened here. In fact, I am willing to bet that you orchestrated the entire thing. Perhaps I should not have granted you all your monetary privileges after all.” Regina spoke, and Emma barely hid a smirk at the condescending tone of voice.

“Well, I am the owner of a great many houses and establishments in this fine town.” Gold answered without missing a beat. It was like watching a chess match—if chess matches were not boring as all hell, of course—and Emma kept sliding her eyes from one to the other as secret messages were traded back and forth and dominance was asserted.

“That you are,” Regina agreed, coming closer, Emma in her wake. As Regina leaned forward over the counter Gold had placed himself behind, completely unhindered by the cuffs trapping her arms behind her back, Emma could hear the change in her tone easily, although the next words were a forceful whisper. “And I am sure I can remedy that situation.” 

Gold regarded her a moment before he slowly dragged his eyes to Emma. He looked her up and down as if Regina’s body was not blocking out half of it and extended his hand past the Mayor, completely disregarding her. After a moment, Emma reached for the outstretched hand and shook it, surprised at the force Gold managed to put into the simple touch.

“We have not been properly introduced. I am known as Mister Gold, and I am the proud owner of this little shop. May I inquire after your name?” He asked, and Emma knew it was a trick question somehow, that she shouldn’t give him her name. Regina wasn’t looking at her, though, so she cleared her throat, hoping that if she spoke up, Gold would let go of the hand he was still holding in a vice grip.

“Emma.” She said, eternally grateful for the strength in her voice.

“Emma…?” Gold inquired further, not letting go of her hand.

“Swan. Emma Swan.” She admitted, and felt like she had somehow made the wrong decision. What was with this town, anyway?

“Swan… that is a beautiful name.” He said, a smile coming to his features as he regarded Regina a moment. Looks were exchanged, and she could see Regina swallow with a fair bit of difficulty. What was going on? What was being discussed here that she could not understand? Also, why was he focussing on her family name and not her first name? A family name was an odd thing to comment on, wasn’t it? Then again, nothing about this exchange was entirely normal.

“I am sure I can remedy the situation… _dearie_ ,” Gold promised Regina conspiratorially as he leaned in over the counter to bring himself closer to the woman who had straightened herself out when the attention was diverted off of her and onto Emma. “…if you promise to take care of our guest… _please_.”

Regina shivered as if touched by a ghost. Even from her crappy vantage point, she could see Regina’s jaw setting and her eyes casting down. Whatever battle had just been fought, Regina had lost. Emma did not know how, or why, but she had.

“There is a storm coming, after all…” Gold continued, and Emma subconsciously looked out over the bright blue sky. Something had a hold over her now, she realized. Somewhere along this exchange, she had gone from the captor to the captive, and she wasn’t sure when it had happened, nor what it meant. Regina shifted, and Emma realized she must be incredibly uncomfortable in the cuffs still around her wrists.

“Of course I will look after our _guest_.” Regina spoke eventually, and Emma felt that it was very much against her wishes to do so. Slightly hurt, a little surprised, and majorly confused, Emma decided to wait all of it out. As the tension in the room reached a breaking point, Gold smiled, folding his hands over his cane.

“Good, good, because I am sure someone in this town would very much like to see Miss Swan stay.” He continued, and Emma felt the poison that had slowly been settling in her gut turn even more acidic.

“Who?” She questioned, not even wanting to hear the answer, but feeling like the question was mandatory to ask. Gold looked positively gleeful, and Emma suddenly knew beyond a doubt that somehow, this man had doctored not only judicial documents, but had thrown so much money at someone, he had almost gotten away with detaining a very powerful figure in this town. Although he had admitted to none of it, she _knew_.

“Why, young Henry, of course.” He said incredulously, as if he was surprised the two women in front of him did not know. Emma fought the urge to roll her eyes, Regina just tensed at the mention of her son. Then, Emma understood. Being requested by name, the adoption papers, being found in the woods. It was all connected… and Henry was the son she had given up for adoption ten years ago.

“He’s my son… isn’t he?” She asked, nausea wrestling its way through her system. Now Regina did move; she stepped away from her, eyes landing on her. There was so much pain there, Emma realized—so much fear.

“No…” the word escaped Regina, Emma was sure, but it was testament to the way Regina’s eyes displayed the crumbling of her life. Emma swallowed, stepping forward and reaching out to touch Regina’s shoulder.

“Regina, I’m not… he’s not…”

What was she saying? That she did not want to know her son? That she could just leave after this? That there wasn’t a gaping hole in her heart where her son was supposed to be? Regina jumped away from her hand as if it was on fire.

“I won’t take him from you.” She promised, but in the swirl of emotions that was tormenting her heart, she couldn’t tell if it was the truth or not. From the corner of her eye, she could see Gold smirking, watching the exchange. Caught completely unaware, Emma felt her confusion settle into anger, and this time it was her turn to shield Regina’s body as she inserted herself between Gold and the brunette.

“You… you set all of this up. You wanted me here, why?” She demanded angrily. Gold didn’t even flinch.

“All in good time, dearie.” He said, and this time the threat in the words was very thinly veiled—if it was veiled at all. Emma knew she had no leverage, nothing to push, and although she wanted nothing more than to beat the truth out of someone, she knew she couldn’t—these people were dangerous. More dangerous than she could ever hope to be. In the end, she found herself gaping like a fish in the dusty store full of invaluable trinkets.

“Regina, take this woman out of my shop, _please_.” Gold said satisfied with the damage done, and turned around. Without looking back, he disappeared through the curtain that separated the store from the back of the building, and Emma watched him go until she had the courage to turn around. She studied Regina’s face, although the latter tried to hide herself away by turning her head and eventually walking out.

Emma followed her, begging her to stop, but Regina didn’t, only when they had left the store did she come to a halt. 

“Regina, let me—” Emma started, but Regina spun around and cut her off. The murderous glint was back in her eyes and Emma stopped dead in her tracks, careful to keep her distance.

“Let you, what, Miss Swan?” Regina hissed. “Turn my life up-side-down? Take my son from me? Gold may want you here, but I do not, and my son does not need you in his life. He has a mother and she has been there for him ever since he was born.” 

Emma winched in the onslaught, but she didn’t back down. 

“I never asked to be here, Regina! Do I want to see my son? Sure! Look, in the car—you knew things about me. You _know_ why Gold wants me here, don’t you? His ‘agenda’? I don’t think I’m going anywhere until that damn ‘storm’ has cleared and as much as you want to keep him from me, while I’m here he _will_ see me. Even if we don’t tell him who I am, I am sure Mister pawnshop owner over here will make sure he finds out so why don’t you _work with me, here_ so we can settle this in a way that does not involve shouting matches in the street like we are having now!” Emma exploded, drawing the attention of pretty much everyone in the vicinity. Regina’s jaw set, but at least her eyes slowly softened to intense hate.

“Now turn around so I can take off your cuffs.” Emma gritted out through clenched teeth. It took a moment for Regina to comply. Even in her anger and her completely shot emotional state, sliding her fingers over Regina’s smooth skin was a desirable affair, and when Regina turned around—gently massaging her aching wrists—she could see that Regina wasn’t as unaffected as she would like Emma to believe.

“He’s my son too…” Emma said softly, and Regina dipped her head, looking about her a moment as if realizing for the first time they were having this very personal discussion right on Main Street.

“It’s fitting,” Regina mused. “You being his birth mother.”

It explained nothing for Emma, but it was good to her Regina’s voice shifting pitch from furious to resigned. Well, ‘good’ was perhaps not the right word—it pained her to cause pain to the already somewhat fragile woman—but it was better than being shouted at.

“You’re not going to explain that one either, are you?” Emma asked, and Regina was just too late to stop herself from smiling, although the expression was whipped off of her face almost instantly. Dark eyes regarded her for long moments and Regina sighed.

“How would you like some breakfast not acquired at a drive-through window?” Regina asked her, and Emma groaned at the nod to her McDonald’s craving from last night of which the evidence was still in her car—a fact that had not gone unnoticed by the brunette.

“Okay.” She answered simply, and reached for the passenger side door of her Bug. Regina looked tired and in thought as she got in, but she got in none the less. As Emma parked the car in front of the mansion, Regina did not move for a moment, and Emma waited.

“We have a common enemy,” Regina eventually said, and Emma nodded. Gold; the puppet master of this town. “But you will find out soon enough that there are others in this town that have dark pasts—myself included.”

Emma met Regina’s eyes, unable to keep the surprise and confusion off of her features. Again, Regina hinted at her past wrongdoings, and Emma found herself not wanting to know, not wanting to hear. This situation was so alien to her, and she was so out of her league she was actually petrified. How could her life possibly have changed so much in less than twenty-four hours?

“I don’t think I can handle your story right now.” She admitted truthfully.

“I do not think I can handle telling you, dear, nor do I think you are ready for it.” Regina answered, looking longingly at the house so tantalizingly close. 

“Why don’t we get to know each other first… and you—” a halted breath. “You get to meet Henry under better circumstances than last night. We will take it from there.” Regina suggested and Emma smiled gratefully.

“Thank you, Regina. I know… I can imagine this is hard for you.” She said softly, and Regina sighed.

“Come.” She said, putting on a brave face as she waited for Emma to get out and open her door—child lock and all. 

“Let’s get inside.” The brunette said as she gracefully slid out of the car. Their eyes met once more as they stood close together in the shadow of the Bug, and Emma didn’t try to hide the smile that inexplicably made its way through her system. A second later, Regina mirrored the emotion and Emma sighed. With that, everything was decided, and the knot in Emma’s stomach slowly begun to unwind.


End file.
